


Why He Said Yes

by nagi_schwarz



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-27
Updated: 2008-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original request was: "Harry discovers that his fellow Champion is actually a neurotic ball of insecurities."  Unbeta'd, since, well, it's for my usual beta <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://rotaryphones.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://rotaryphones.livejournal.com/">rotaryphones</a>.  A belated Merry Christmas!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why He Said Yes

Harry was quite tired of Cedric Diggory. Day in, day out, all he heard was how bloody perfect the boy was. He'd even caught Hermione at it, having a guilty giggle with Lavender and Parvati about how _handsome_ and _talented_ and _decent_ Diggory was. Harry was no judge for handsome - after all, Diggory was another bloke. As for talented - well, Diggory was captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team for a reason. Harry had conceded decent for about two seconds last year when Diggory offered to have a rematch after that nonsense with the Dementors. But it had become quite clear that Diggory in no way believed that Harry hadn't put his name into the Goblet of Fire, and as Harry was essentially without allies for the First Task, he wasn't feeling all that charitable toward Diggory.

If Harry never heard another word about how wonderful Diggory was, it'd be too soon. Lately, however, Harry had the notion that Cedric Diggory, on top of being bloody perfect, was completely off his rocker. Harry was sitting in the courtyard outside the Transfiguration corridor with a book open on his lap - admittedly not a textbook - when he saw Diggory pacing up and down outside of one of the classrooms. He had his hands jammed into his trouser pockets beneath his robes, his tie was askew, and he wore an expression of intense concentration.

Also, he was talking to himself. As Hermione was fond of reminding Harry, talking to oneself was a sign of insanity. No less, it looked as though Cedric was _arguing_ with himself. Surely Madame Pomfrey had to intervene in those sorts of things?

Harry tugged his scarf tighter for warmth and returned to his study of the Wronski Feint. If Viktor Krum could do it, as big as he was, surely Harry could do it. Seekers were meant to be small, right? Harry wondered, briefly, if someone had made that fact up just so he wouldn't feel bad about being so underfed for years. Harry was hardly the sort to feel guilty about that sort of thing, as he hadn't gone out of his way to be underfed, but he was still puzzled by the seeker-jockey correlation Hermione insisted existed.

A shadow fell over Harry's book, blocking out the moving diagram, and he lifted his head. Instead of an autumn shadow to blot out the already weak sunlight, Cedric Diggory stood over him.

"Hello, Potter - er, Harry."

"Diggory," Harry said warily.

The older boy looked jittery and kept dragging a hand through his hair, disheveling it. The girls would be so disappointed now that their True Champion was not perfectly coiffed while out in public.

Harry despaired that he knew the word 'coiffed' and silently blamed it on Hermione.

"Please, call me Cedric," he said.

"All right. What do you want, Cedric?" Harry didn't have the energy to keep the impatience out of his voice.

A bright pink blush stained Cedric's cheekbones (and Harry had heard too much talk about that particular feature as well), and Cedric carded his fingers through his hair once more. "Nothing, I -- I'm sorry to have bothered you." And he spun on his heel and walked away.

Harry stared at the older boy's departing back and wondered what that was all about.

* * *

Harry caught Cedric arguing with himself five more times in the following fortnight before Cedric worked up the nerve to approach him again.

"Ah, good morning, Potter. Harry."

"Good morning, Cedric," Harry said. He was on his way to potions and wasn't particularly happy about it. Snape would love it if he were late, too, probably take off half a dozen house points for being seen talking to a Hufflepuff or something.

"How are you?"

"Going to be late for potions. Did you need something?"

"Have you heard about the upcoming --?" Cedric cut himself off, shaking his head, and Harry supposed he must have lost one of those arguments with himself. "Forgive me for taking your time. Enjoy the rest of your day." He dodged around Harry and vanished. Harry noticed that Cedric walked quickly, with his head down, avoiding anyone's gaze.

 _He_ was the most popular boy at Hogwarts?

* * *

Harry wondered what it meant, that this time _he_ was following _Cedric_ in an attempt to make awkward conversation. How, precisely, did one warn another about his imminent doom?

"Heard there'd be some wonderful raspberry tortes with supper tonight. Also, did you know we're going to be dragon food for the first task? Apparently we are crunchy and taste good with ketchup."

Harry shook his head at his own stupidity and continued tailing Cedric down the hallway. At first he thought it'd be difficult to get Cedric separated from his classmates, but then inspiration struck Harry, and he cast a small cutting hex. The strap of Cedric's book bag twanged free and hit Cedric in the eye. The bookbag tumbled to the floor.

Cedric automatically lowered himself to his knees, one hand over his injured eye, the other outstretched in search of his book bag. Harry winced - he hadn't meant to injure Cedric, but they had to have this conversation. Harry approached, attempting to look as casual and helpful as possible.

Cedric groped fruitlessly for his bottle of ink and argued with himself. "Just brilliant, Diggory," he hissed. "You've gone and ruined the brand new bag your mother sent you. She's going to think you terribly ungrateful for not taking good care of your things. And you're going to be late to charms as well, and you need all the charms you can get to survive the first task."

"It's dragons," Harry said.

Cedric yelped and lost his balance. He toppled over off his haunches - and promptly smacked into a suit of armor. A quick charm stopped it from falling over, and then Cedric was rubbing his eyes and peering up at Harry.

"Oh, Harry. You startled me. What was that about dragons?"

"One for each of us," Harry said, and felt a frisson of guilt when Cedric's face turned paler. "I think we'll have to fight them. Or something. For the First Task."

"Oh dear," Cedric said, and his expression, though strained, turned thoughtful. "Dragons - probably mothers as they're the most fierce."

"I couldn't tell just by looking at them," Harry said.

Cedric's brow furrowed. "You saw them?"

Harry nodded. "Viktor and Fleur know by now as well."

Cedric was silent as he gathered up his school supplies. "I see. Thank you, Harry, for telling me." Then he glanced at his pocket watch, and his grey eyes went wide. "Bugger - Flitwick'll hate me if I'm late. I have to go. But really, Harry, thanks."

Harry shrugged uneasily. "It's only the decent thing to do." He turned and started for the stairs - he didn't feel nearly as awful about being late for divinations. He heard Cedric talking to himself as he walked away, and he paused, turned. Cedric was looking at him.

"Yes?"

"I - what are you - this weekend - Hogsmeade --" Cedric began, and then shook his head. "Never mind. I'll probably be chaperoning. Thanks again, Harry." And he headed to class.

Had Harry been Lavender, Parvati, or Hermione, he would have thought Cedric had been trying to ask him out for Hogsmeade this weekend, but that sort of thing was impossible. After all, Cedric was perfect, and there was no way he fancied someone like Harry.

* * *

Later that evening, Harry came across Cedric sitting alone in the Great Hall, several textbooks spread out across the tables. As usual, Cedric was talking to himself.

"Distraction - by far the best option. Quidditch flying? No, impossible, and dragons fly too quickly. Perhaps an offer of prey - transfiguration."

Harry hung back and watched Cedric sort through the books with efficient speed, long fingers flipping through the pages and rapidly become ink-stained as he took notes. Cedric was strangely adorable when he was flustered as he was. During the last Hogsmeade weekend, Harry had seen Cedric on prefect patrol about the town, and then Cedric had looked every inch a the perfect boy the girls talked about. He looked smart in his black robes, prefect badge glinting on one lapel. He'd also looked handsome, standing tall and confident, guiding younger Hufflepuff students around the shops with the air of a concerned old brother. Now, hair mussed and robes cast aside to reveal a white Oxford shirt untucked and a tie knot falling loose, Cedric looked like a mad muggle scientist, a man crazed with the search for the answers.

"I'm doing the quidditch flying myself," Harry said, and had the pleasure of seeing Cedric jump.

"Harry! Hello - what --" Cedric swept aside a pile of books with a casual flick of his wand to clear a space for Harry to sit beside him.

Harry was starkly aware of Cedric's nonchalance about his own level of magical control - wordless charms were notoriously difficult. He sat down warily and realized that he hadn't been so close to Cedric since, well, the disastrous interview with that bint Rita Skeeter. Up close, Cedric was - striking. He had grey eyes that were bright, though with intelligence or sleep-deprived madness Harry couldn't tell.

"I was just wandering about and noticed you here and thought I'd see how you were doing," Harry said, which was a lie. He had been wandering about, but he hadn't had any real intention of seeking Cedric out. He'd just happened into the same place Cedric was in, which he seemed to be doing a lot of these days.

"I'm doing all right," Cedric said, but his voice went strange and pitchy, as if he were suddenly very nervous. Harry supposed it was the dragons - after all, the First Task was tomorrow. "And yourself?"

"As well as can be, considering that I'm about to become dragon food in a few hours," Harry said. He tried to keep his tone light, but he noticed Cedric's face go pale.

Cedric dragged a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in odd directions. "A few hours. Yeah. So - quidditch flying?"

"Yeah. Playing to my strengths and all." Harry was privately amused. He'd never imagined that Cedric Diggory was so inarticulate.

"That's a good, er, strategy to take." Cedric smiled weakly. "I suppose I should sort mine out."

Harry stood up. "Yeah. I should leave you to it. Do you have a plan?"

Cedric bit his lip, and for a moment Harry was distracted by how lovely and red Cedric's lips were.

"I thought up a plan a little after you first mentioned the dragons, but I don't think it's very good." He shrugged. "It's just - would a dragon fall for it, really?"

"Fall for what?"

"I was thinking of transfiguring a stone into a dog and getting the dragon to chase the dog while I do whatever it is I have to do," Cedric said. "I don't think they'll ask us to kill the dragons we face - they are an endangered species, after all."

Harry honestly hadn't realized there would be no killing. Hermione had avoided the fact that killing was a distinct possibility, but then dragons as an endangered species probably wasn't common knowledge, was it? Ron would have known something like that before Hermione would have.

"Still, dragons are intelligent creatures, and - the judges will be looking for something flash, I suppose." Cedric sighed. "I don't know why the Goblet chose me. I put my name in because, well, I thought it might be good of me, to try to represent Hufflepuff, but I didn't think I'd actually be chosen."

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to Cedric about this, given how everyone was convinced Harry was a cheater and Malfoy had been doing that nonsense with those stupid badges, but then Cedric smiled weakly.

"If I'm this terrified, I can't imagine that you, a mere fourteen, actually put your name in. And - I'm sorry about how awful everyone's been. You know, Malfoy."

Harry curled his hands into fists at Malfoy's name. "Well, people have given up with the badges at least. As for being merely fourteen, well, I am a Gryffindor, and we're stupidly brave."

"There's stupidly brave, and then there's insane," Cedric said. "Facing down dragons is insane, even if the prize is eternal glory."

"So you believe me, then? That someone else put my name in there?"

Cedric nodded. "Yeah. Though why is anyone's guess." He sighed and poked morosely at his textbook. "I'll think of _some_ way to survive the dragon tomorrow."

"The dog transfiguration trick is actually a good idea," Harry said. It was a _great_ idea. Sure, he could transfigure small objects into small animals, but a dog was complex, right? Going from a rock to a dog had to bloody complicated. That Cedric could consider it as an option and then discard it because it wasn't complex enough was staggering.

However, Cedric was unaware of the magnitude of his magical skill. He was nibbling on his lower lip again, and his eyes were wide, earnest. "You really think so?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I do." He hadn't realized his opinion mattered to Cedric, but something in him was flattered that Cedric cared. "Good luck with it. You should get to sleep, you know. Need to be well-rested to be a big, brave Champion tomorrow."

Cedric stood up, twitched the textbooks into a neat pile with another wordless flick of his wand. "I'm not the only Hogwarts Champion now, am I?"

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "If a champion is what you'd call me."

Cedric cast him a sidelong glance. "It's what I'd call you. After all, you've slain a basilisk and gotten rid of the most garlicky teacher Hogwarts has ever had. That's a champion in my book."

Harry paused and looked up at Cedric. There'd been a strange note in Cedric's voice that sent tingles up Harry's spine. "You believe all that?"

"I, well, that is --" Cedric tugged a hand through his hair, flustered all over again, and here it came, the madman who argued with himself. Harry wondered if Cedric had two personalities and all the girls in school were in love with one because only Harry saw the other.

"Yeah," Cedric said finally. "I do believe it."

"That's good to know," Harry said. Maybe that meant Cedric was an ally of sorts for future troubles with Malfoy and the like? "Good night, and good luck." He headed for the doors.

After a moment, he heard Cedric trot to catch up with him. The textbooks he'd borrowed from the library floated behind him like demented ducklings.

"Harry, I - would you like me to - I mean, I'm a prefect. I should walk you back to your dormitory." Cedric attempted to muster an authoritative expression and failed.

Harry peered up at him. Cedric's face was flushed again, and he was breathing rapidly. "Are you all right? You seem - feverish. Maybe Madame Pomfrey should have a look at you."

Cedric shook his head quickly. "No, I, er -- good night." He turned and fled. The books zoomed after him.

As Harry headed back to the Gryffindor dormitories, he reflected that Cedric had been acting rather like Ron did whenever he was faced with Fleur. Perhaps Cedric had been affected by her veela charms as well and was a bit confused. It made quite a bit of sense - Cedric really had only been acting strangely since the tournament began. Harry shrugged Cedric out of his mind and headed up to the fourth year boys' dormitory. He changed into his pajamas and, on a whim, summoned his toothbrush for practice. Hopefully, he'd survive this first task.

* * *

The next morning, Harry stood inside the Champions' tent, fiddling nervously with his wand and wondering who was going to get which dragon and whether or not the Ministry officials would really let students _die_ for this stupid contest. Fleur and Madame Maxime were talking on the other side of the tent, heads bent together as they spoke in low, rapid French. Krum, by sharp contrast, stood grim and silent in the other corner. Karkaroff and another student stood with him, but he seemed to be ignoring them. Of course, he was a professional quidditch player - this sort of stress was probably nothing to him.

Where was Cedric? Harry peered out the front of the tent. He was wary of actually going out there, knowing that Rita Skeeter was on the prowl. After a moment, he spotted Cedric in the midst of a crowd of younger Hufflepuff students. Harry reflected that Cedric looked rather dashing in his champions' robes. His smile was fond as he spoke to the younger students, and they all gazed up at him with varying degrees of awe and admiration.

"Will it be dangerous, Ced?" one of the girls asked. She was tiny and looked like a first year.

"Dangerous enough to be a challenge, but I'm sure the competition organizers have obviated the more deadly risks." Cedric spoke confidently and easily. Harry had heard he got good marks, but Cedric actually sounded smart, like Hermione.

"Do you think you'll win?" a boy asked.

"We'll see," Cedric said. "I've formulated a strategy. Hopefully it'll work and I'll complete the task, eh?"

"You're very brave, Cedric," another little girl said.

"That's very kind of you, Rosaline." Cedric smiled and ruffled her hair fondly. "Out there I'm going to represent Hufflepuff and Hogwarts and do my best to make old Mother Helga proud. The rest of you need to do the same, all right? Work hard in school, be nice to the other students - even the Slytherins."

"Yes, Cedric," the students chorused.

Their loyalty to the older boy was impressive. Harry thought that, for all that the girls giggled about Cedric, perhaps he did have his good points.

"What about Harry Potter? You gonna smash him into the ground?" another boy asked.

Cedric's brow furrowed. "Remember, Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet - you saw what happened to the Weasley twins. He's been through a lot, between all that rot Rita Skeeter writes about him and what Malfoy did. Harry's our school Champion too - you should be supportive of him. After all, between him and me, we have twice the chance of winning."

"Then all that stuff in the Prophet about Harry dating that girl Hermione isn't true?" a girl asked.

Cedric blinked, surprised. Harry was surprised as well - he was dating Hermione? Since when?

"I wouldn't know about that," Cedric said, his tone abrupt. He checked his pocket watch. "I ought to go get ready. Go sit with the rest of the house, all right?"

The younger students nodded and scampered away. Cedric turned and started for the tent, frowning down at his shoes all the while. He came up short when he nearly ran into Harry.

"Oh, hello! I, er, didn't notice you there." A bright brush was creeping up his face.

"Just wondering where you were," Harry said, tone deliberately casual.

"Really? I was, you know, just chatting. Erm - are you and Hermione--?" Cedric shook his head. "Never mind. Here comes Crouch and Bagman." He dodged around Harry and headed into the tent.

There it was, the dual personalities again. Cedric was so confident with the younger students of his house, and he became a blushing, stammering wreck like Neville when he talked to Harry. Was Harry that much like Snape? He shuddered at the thought. And what did Cedric care, whether or not Harry was dating Hermione?

* * *

Harry was glad that Ron had come around after the First Task, because Ron was right - anyone who voluntarily put his name into the Goblet had to have been mad. And, if what Harry was seeing right now was any indication, Cedric Diggory was quite mad.

Once again, Cedric was pacing a hole in the carpet in one of the back study rooms in the library, arguing with himself. Harry still had no clue as to how to deal with the shrieking golden egg, and with the added pressure of the Yule Ball, he wanted to hide from the world for a while. Harry stared down at the box Madame Pince had given him. It was a box of spare photos from old school annuals. Harry hoped that, perhaps, there were pictures in here that Hagrid hadn't thought to include in the Christmas gift from his first year, such as pictures of Sirius and Professor Lupin.

Before Harry could open the box and begin the long process of sorting through the photos, Cedric marched over to him. He wore an expression that was at once determined and nervous.

"Have you asked anyone to the Yule Ball yet?"

Harry blinked. "No. Been avoiding it, actually." What, was Cedric going to ask him? "Why?"

"It's just - I don't know who to ask. Or, er, how. Well, I mean, I do know _who_ \- but what if they don't like me or say no or...?" Cedric's hair was wildly mussed and his face was flushed, eyes bright with manic energy - or perhaps panic.

"Are you serious?" Harry couldn't believe he was having this conversation with Cedric. Half the girls at Hogwarts, and probably a few of the ones from Beauxbatons, probably wanted to go to the ball with him. Harry really, really liked Cho, but he wasn't sure he could ask her either. She was older than him and just thinking about it made him panic and - and maybe that's what Cedric was feeling. Only there was no reason for Cedric to think like that. He was handsome and smart and charming, and Harry was just - Harry.

"I mean, this person is someone I, er, quite fancy, but I wouldn't know how to ask," Cedric said.

"Just ask," Harry said. "What's the worst she could say? No? You're the True Hogwarts Champion - if she says no, someone else will say yes. It's just a ball, right? You won't have to marry the girl you ask. Although if you really like whoever she is, you ought to ask quickly, before someone else asks her." Harry reflected that it was a bit hypocritical of him to say, as he'd had no less than five opportunities to ask Cho in the last week, and each time he'd backed out at the last moment.

"It's not the simple." Cedric dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I really, really like this person, but every time I try to ask them to - to Hogsmeade or whatever, I just sort of...freeze."

A few months ago, Harry wouldn't have believed Cedric was capable of such a thing, but now he knew that Cedric was just as insecure - if not more insecure - than any other bloke Harry knew.

"Well, then - practice with me."

Cedric blinked.

"What?"

"Pretend I'm the girl you want to ask to the ball and practice what you want to say." It was the sort of thing Hermione would offer, like practicing a spell, and Harry wasn't about to admit that he didn't know the first thing about asking a girl out to Hogsmeade or whatever.

Cedric went pale and swallowed hard. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Look, I know we're both blokes, but --"

"Will you go to the ball with me?"

Harry paused, confused, and then he smiled. Cedric looked quite terrified, and he was wringing his hands - he had long, pretty hands, like a piano player - but he also looked fiercely determined, like a ruffled lion cub. He was adorable, in his own way, like a miscast prince charming.

"That was pretty good, although maybe not so rushed - she might not understand what you're asking, and it'd be easier to just have to ask it once, right?" Harry smiled encouragingly. "Try again."

Cedric took a deep breath. "Would you go to the ball with me?" His voice squeaked a bit, but he sounded more comfortable.

Harry nodded. "That was better. Erm - maybe straighten up a bit, fix your hair or something before you ask? Hermione always tells me people will be nicer to me if I'm not so - well, the word she uses is 'slovenly'."

Cedric smoothed his hair down obediently, straightened his tie, and took a deep breath. "Harry, will you go to the ball with me? I can't promise good dancing, but I can offer my word as a gentleman that I'll do well by you."

Harry grinned. "That's perfect. Any girl would say yes to that."

Cedric looked confused and flustered again. For a moment, Harry thought he saw hurt flash in Cedric's eyes, but then Cedric nodded slowly. "Right. Thanks for the help. I'll, er, just leave you to it, then. Oh - there's Cho. I should go, er, talk seeker stuff with her." And Cedric jammed his hands into his robe pockets and ducked his head, hurrying away.

Now Harry was confused. On that last try, Cedric had done splendidly. He'd been confident and charming and looked very handsome, and then he'd just sort of...deflated. It was all very strange. Well, Cedric would definitely have the date he wanted for the ball. Now Harry just had to screw up the courage to ask Cho.

* * *

Two days later, after the awful "wangoballwime?" incident, Harry reflected that he hadn't been in any position to go giving Cedric any asking-out advice. Hermione was in a snit with Ron, and Harry still didn't have a date. If he weren't a bloody Triwizard Champion he wouldn't even need a date, but it seemed fate was out to thwart him again, and he needed to find someone. Soon.

The answer came in the form of the Patil twins, Padma and Parvati being more than willing to accompany a champion and his best mate to the ball. Harry couldn't stop the sucker-punch shock he felt when he saw Cedric step into the ballroom with Cho on his arm. Apparently Harry's advice _had_ worked, and Cedric had asked the girl he wanted. Harry supposed it was his own fault - he'd helped Cedric and hadn't even thought to ask who Cedric wanted to take to the ball. But then the band struck up the opening song and Parvati was steering Harry onto the dance floor.

Harry reckoned it'd be childish to sulk, so once the opening dance was done he spent as much time as possible off the dance floor and next to the punch bowl. He was surprised when Cedric came to stand beside him. Harry didn't want to talk to him, but Cedric cleared his throat and then said,

"I tried to take your advice, but the person I wanted to ask, er, told me no."

Harry blinked. "What? Really?"

Cedric ducked his head and blushed. He blushed so prettily. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry was horrified at himself for thinking that.

"Yeah. I guess I wasn't too clear when I asked, and I think maybe the person didn't really understand, so I asked Cho. She's a friend, so I reckoned I wouldn't be too miserable." Cedric offered Harry a sweet, crooked smile, and Harry felt something odd flutter in his chest. "You don't seem all that cheerful about this yourself."

"I didn't take my own advice and by the time I asked the girl I wanted, she was already going with someone else." Harry shrugged. "And I'm not much one for dancing."

"Who did you want to ask?"

"It - doesn't really matter." Harry knew he'd been a bit too sharp and went to apologize, but Cedric caught the hint and changed the subject.

"So, what are the chances - three seekers, one competition?"

Harry hadn't thought of it that way. "Probably pretty slim. Think Fleur plays?"

"To be honest, I can't see her playing quidditch at all, but if she did Seeker would be her most likely choice - none of the roughhousing that goes with being a chaser or beater, I guess." Cedric sipped some punch.

Harry saw Cho beckoning from the dance floor, and Cedric straightened up.

"I don't suppose you have any tips on being a good date once you've asked?" Cedric wore a faint expression of longsuffering.

Harry glanced back at the table where he'd left Parvati and saw that she was being chatted up by several Beauxbatons boys. "No, I don't have any."

"Thanks for helping me the other day," Cedric said. "Maybe next time I'll get it right." And he headed back onto the dance floor. Harry was puzzled by Cedric's last statement - what did Harry care, that Cedric would get a date with the girl he actually fancied? Harry really couldn't imagine fancying anyone but Cho - except for those awful moments when Fleur's veela charms made him dizzy. After a final cup of punch, Harry decided he should just leave before he embarrassed himself any further. Maybe next time there was a Hogsmeade weekend, _he'd_ get it right too.

* * *

The prefects' bathroom. What the hell had Cedric meant by that? After the ball, Cedric had offered some bizarre and cryptic comment about the prefects' bathroom and the egg and then vanished, probably to walk Cho back to the Ravenclaw dorms all gentleman-like. He probably got to kiss her good night, too, and -- Harry didn't want to think about it anymore. Didn't want to think of Cedric or Cho or the tournament or any of it. Harry sat on his bed, curtains drawn shut, and tried not to sulk. The night had ended awfully, with Hermione and Ron having a terrible row and Parvati angry at Harry, and he really, really wished he were anyone but himself right now. In fact, being Neville Longbottom seemed like a great option at this point.

Harry closed his eyes and flung himself backward onto his pillows. He stared at the ceiling and wondered why anyone would want him to make a fool of himself in these poncy dress robes.

And then Dobby the house elf landed on his chest.

Harry stifled a yelp and sat bolt upright, flinging the creature off of him.

"Dobby! What are you doing here?"

Dobby pulled himself back onto his feet. His massive, bulbous eyes were watery with tears. "Dobby did not mean to disturb Master Harry so. Dobby will iron his hands as soon as he is back in the kitchens."

Harry sighed. "Dobby --"

"Or maybe Dobby ought to beat himself round the head right now." He started toward one of the bed posts, and Harry flung a hand out, catching the edge of the pillowcase Dobby wore.

"No, no, Dobby, you don't need to punish yourself. You just -- surprised me is all." Harry tried to get his heart rate back to normal. "What's going on? Happy Christmas, by the way." Harry reckoned he ought to reach under his bed and fish out the package of socks he'd collected for Dobby.

"Happy Christmas to Master Harry," Dobby said. He thrust a brightly-wrapped package at Harry. "Dobby was told to give this to Master Harry."

"Oh," Harry said. He set the package on his lap and stared at the golden snitches that chased each other around the wrapping paper. "Thanks. Who's it from?"

Immediately, Dobby's expression turned hunted, and he shook his head rapidly, massive ears flapping. "Dobby isn't supposed to tell."

"All right," Harry said quickly, so as not to set Dobby to punishing himself again. "You don't have to tell me. Just - is the person who sent this a friend?"

Dobby nodded. "Yes - a very good friend!"

Ron or Hermione, then. Except they wouldn't have gone through this malarkey to give Harry a gift, and there was no way Hermione would've asked a house elf to help. Harry noticed that the tag attached to the gift only had the "To:" filled out, so Harry had no clue who the gift was from. He didn't recognize the handwriting either.

"Well, thanks," Harry said again. "Just a moment, Dobby." Harry leaned over and poked around under his bed. He found Dobby's gift and tossed it up onto the bed. Then he straightened up and held the gift out to Dobby. "Happy Christmas, then."

Dobby's eyes went wide. "A Christmas gift? For Dobby?"

"Yes. Go on, take it."

Dobby snatched it from him and clutched it to his chest, eyes swimming with tears. "Thank you, Master Harry, thank you! Happy Christmas to Master Harry too!" And he vanished.

Harry jumped. The way house elves disappeared so abruptly and silently disturbed him. Then he studied the gift. It didn't look like a book, judging by the size, but then someone might have been clever and put something small in a very large, padded box. Maybe it was from Sirius? Dobby didn't know Sirius though, did he? Wouldn't Dobby think Sirius was an enemy? There was a vague chance the gift was from Professor Lupin, but Harry didn't think it very likely.

Hermione would have insisted he cast curse-detecting charms on the package, same as when she'd agreed with McGonagall confiscating his Firebolt last year. Harry wondered who would send him a bomb or whatnot disguised as a Christmas present, and he thought that Hogwarts probably had charms in the owlery to detect that sort of thing anyway. Finally, he took a deep breath and began to peel the wrapping paper off the box. He'd seen Dudley tear into gifts every Christmas and birthday, but Harry liked to savor a gift, and he thought it a shame that Dudley had always ruined Aunt Petunia's long hours of work to wrap the gifts so prettily.

The box beneath the paper was made of simple wood, lightweight. Harry shook the box cautiously but heard nothing within. Inside the box the present was buried in old scraps from copies of the Daily Prophet, so Harry poked through the shredded newspaper carefully. In the bottom of the box lay a pair of sleek, brown leather seeker's gloves. Harry lifted them out carefully. They were soft and supple. He tugged them on and was delighted to discover that they fit perfectly, molding to the lines of his hands as if they'd been made just for him. Maybe they had. Harry turned his gloved hands over and saw his initials, embossed in gold, on each glove just under the thumbs. He pulled the gloves off and set them gently back in the box. Loads of people knew he was a seeker, but how many of them knew that he'd been looking for a new pair of gloves?

There was only one way to find out. Harry crawled down to the foot of his bed and opened his school trunk. After a bit of rummaging around, he found a piece of parchment and a battered quill. He penned a brief but sincere thank you note, for the gloves were lovely, and then he slipped out of bed. The other boys were asleep, so Harry tugged on his invisibility cloak and headed down to the kitchens.

Dobby was still there, stoking some of the fires. The other house elves scattered as soon as Harry arrived.

"Master Harry should be in bed!" Dobby cried.

Harry winced at how loud his voice was. "Not so loud! Look, here, I have this note," he said, and held it out. "If you could just give it to the person who gave me the gift, that would be really great."

Dobby accepted the note gingerly. "Of course. Anything for Master Harry."

"Thanks," Harry said. Hopefully he'd figure out who'd sent the gift before next term. He hoped that it was Cho. Somewhere in the back of his mind, some part of him hoped it was from someone else.

* * *

Harry landed on the edge of the pitch and straightened his quidditch robes absently - they'd gone all askew during his repeated attempts at the Wronski Feint. He'd already done it once, but something in him balked at doing it again. Still, it had felt good to fly. He stared down at the little snitch that lay in the palm of his glove and sighed. Three weeks into the new term and he still hadn't sussed out who'd sent him the gift. There had been no reply from the note he'd sent, so that was a dead end. A few discrete inquiries around the dorms only told him that no one in his house had given him gift, and the Weasleys hadn't donated the gift either. Harry had no clue as to how to ask around the other houses, and he'd decided that maybe he ought to let it go. The gloves were a lovely gift, and he reckoned he just ought to be grateful for them and move on. At least, that was what Hermione had said, and she was right more often than not. Harry wondered if Viktor had given her anything nice for Christmas.

"You looked good out there."

Harry turned and saw Cedric trotting toward him.

"Thanks," Harry said. "I missed flying and thought my Firebolt deserved some exercise."

Cedric laughed. "I understand how you feel, although I've never had the honor of mounting a Firebolt."

Harry held out his broom. "Give it a spin, if you like."

Cedric blinked. "Really? I mean, I wasn't fishing for a go round the pitch or anything --"

"I know you weren't, but you're a good flyer yourself. I'd like to see what you can do on a Firebolt." Harry smiled.

After a moment's hesitation, Cedric accepted the broom. "Thanks, Harry." The broom levitated into the _up_ position without a word from Cedric, and Harry wondered how Cedric could ever doubt himself and his magic with how skilled he was at wordless charms. Then Cedric swung a leg over the broom and kicked off.

Harry watched him arc across the sky and thought that, while Krum was an impressive and aggressive flier, Cedric was a more graceful flier. He'd been at it longer than Harry and he knew how to use the long, lean lines of his body. Cedric on his own Cleansweep was impressive enough, but on a Firebolt he was breathtaking. Harry could see how Cedric's height made his turns a hair slower than most, but he supposed that when Cedric had initially joined the Hufflepuff team he hadn't been that tall. On reflection, however, Harry realized that he couldn't remember ever seeing Cedric when he was short.

The warmth from Harry's own flight had worn off by the time Cedric landed. His hair was wild and windblown and his cheeks were red from the cold, but his eyes sparkled, and he looked delighted.

"Wow! That was absolutely wicked." Cedric turned the broom over in his hands and whistled appreciatively. "You've got yourself a good piece here, Potter. Thanks for letting me try it out."

Harry took the broom back and curled his hands around it tightly to stop himself from fidgeting. For some strange reason, his heart was pounding in his chest, and when Cedric laughed again his heart skipped a beat.

"You're welcome," he said.

Cedric tilted his head back to look at the darkening sky. "We should go inside and get some supper."

Harry nodded. "Yeah - I'm hungry after all that flying."

"I'll bet," Cedric said. "You'd been at it for nearly an hour."

Harry blinked. "You were watching me?"

"Yeah." Cedric shrugged easily.

"Oh. Er, why? I mean, I guess you thought I was Krum trying that Wronski Feint and all, and --" Harry cut himself off. He was babbling. Why was he babbling? Wasn't Cedric usually the nervous one?

Cedric smiled, and Harry felt his pulse lurch once more. Cedric wasn't nervous right now. In fact, all term, Harry hadn't seen Cedric talking to or arguing with himself once. What was going on?

"I knew it was you out here," Cedric said. "I just wanted to watch. You're a better flier than you know."

"I think most of the times I win it's just luck," Harry said.

Cedric shook his head. "You undervalue your own skill."

Harry gazed up at Cedric. "You seem - different this term."

"How so?"

"Last semester you were - nervous. You know? A bit - mad. Talked to yourself a lot." Harry didn't know why he was stammering like he was.

Cedric ducked his head, blushing prettily. "I'm surprised you noticed - no one else did."

"Best I could tell, you were only like that around me," Harry said, and realized it was true.

"You're probably right." Cedric shoved his hands into his pockets, and Harry realized that Cedric had been wearing gloves. Brown leather gloves, fingerless, for plucking a snitch out of the air. And there'd been a flash of gold under one of Cedric's thumbs. Initials.

Harry looked down at his own gloves. The funny fluttering feeling in his belly returned full force.

"So, Harry, I've been thinking a lot about what you told me last term," Cedric said.

Harry looked up quickly. "What I told you?" he echoed weakly.

"You said not to rush and to straighten myself up," Cedric said. He smoothed down his hair with deliberate hands and straightened his tie. He tugged off his gloves and pocketed them, and then he held out one hand. "Harry, will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

Harry goggled. "I - yes."

Why had he said yes? What was wrong with him? Diggory was a bloke! But the smile that spread across Cedric's face made Harry feel warm all over, and when Cedric brought Harry's hand up and brushed his lips over the back of Harry's knuckles, Harry felt his knees go weak.

Something in his mind clicked into place.

This was why he'd said yes.

"Thank you, Harry," Cedric said, and his voice, low and husky, sent shivers down Harry's spine. Then Cedric leaned down and whispered, "Can I kiss you?"

Harry swallowed hard and nodded, unable to speak. His eyes fluttered closed, and then Cedric's lips met his. Harry swayed, his knees giving out, and arms wrapped around his waist, tugged him up against a warm, lean body. After a moment, Cedric pulled back, and Harry opened his eyes.

"That was wonderful," Cedric said softly.

Harry nodded. "Do it again."

And Cedric obliged him, thoroughly. Harry wrapped his arms around Cedric's neck and tugged him closer, enjoying the little shocks of lightning that danced at his nerve endings when Cedric's tongue twined with his.

 _This_ was why he'd said yes.  



End file.
